


Held for Ransom

by ladyroxanne21



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Graphic Description, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 08:15:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8005315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyroxanne21/pseuds/ladyroxanne21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco is abducted by those who feel that he (and other former Death Eaters) should pay for his crimes and those of his father far more than he did. Desperate and not trusting anyone else, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy ask Harry for his help in rescuing Draco.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Held for Ransom

**Author's Note:**

> This is a dark story that might be hard to read, but it ends on a lighter note :-)

Draco supposed that he should have known better than to go drinking alone. He'd picked a quiet bar on Knockturn Alley so that he wouldn't have to worry about the “respectable clientele” of the Leaky Cauldron being offended by his presence. Maybe knowing that the “unsavory characters” in this dingy pub were more likely to be sympathizers had lulled him into a false sense of security. He wasn't sure.

All he knew was that someone had just stunned him and the world was slowly fading to black as he slid to the floor. His drink sloshed over him unpleasantly. A hooded figured leaned over him for a split second before he was out cold.

 

***

 

“Thank you for meeting with me today, Harry,” Kingsley Shacklebolt greeted him.

Harry stepped more fully into the Minister's office and looked around as he shut the door. To his surprise and dismay, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy sat in the office. Both looked pale and shaky with distress.

“Kingsley,” Harry greeted politely, but also to let the Malfoys know that he was more likely to sway the Minister's opinion than they were.

Narcissa took it upon herself to perform the required social pleasantries. “Mr. Potter, it's nice to see you looking well,” she murmured with a forced smile that managed to hold just a tiny bit of warmth.

“And you as well,” Harry stated truthfully. He felt a small rush of gratitude toward her since she had once helped him – even though he knew that it was out of concern for her son rather than any sort of allegiance to Harry. “I'm sorry to be rude, but what are we all doing here?”

“Straight to the point, as always,” Kingsley responded with a fond smile.

“We didn't know how else to contact you,” Narcissa said as if this explained everything.

“And why would you want to contact me?” Harry wondered curiously.

Lucius took a deep breath and forced himself to give Harry a tiny smile that was meant to be reassuring but came across as flat and cold. “We will willingly and eagerly give you the entire Malfoy fortune and all our estates and holdings if you help us.”

Harry gaped in shock for a long moment. “Sorry?”

Narcissa took hold of his hand and squeezed it tight. “Someone abducted our son. He is more dear to us than anything!” She sniffed and looked away to prevent the sheen of tears in her eyes from leaking out.

“They have sent us a demand for ransom, but we know better than to give in to their demands,” Lucius added, also looking away to prevent Harry from seeing the grief in his eyes.

“Er...” Harry was baffled as to what they wanted from him.

Kingsley leaned forward in his plush and comfortable chair. “This is the third case of ex Death Eaters from wealthy families being abducted and held for ransom, only...” He sighed heavily. “Despite paying the ransom, the families don't... only the victims' bodies have been returned. From what we've been able to determine, the victims are tortured quite gruesomely until the ransom is paid, _and then_ killed and returned to their loved ones.”

Harry swallowed to wet his suddenly dry throat. “Sir?”

“I plan to send in a team of Aurors – of course – but,” Kingsley shrugged helplessly.

“We do not trust the Ministry to care enough to handle this situation in a way that returns our son to us alive,” Lucius stated coldly, glaring at Kingsley.

“But I'm not an Auror!” Harry protested. “I have no training in the type of raid that will be necessary to rescue Malf – er, Draco.”

Both of the frosty expressions turned to heated glares. “So, you have the training necessary to defeat the Dark Lord during a rather ruthless battle, but you can't use your unique skills to save our son?” Lucius practically growled. “Not even when the reward is everything we own?”

“I don't care about rewards!” Harry burst out in frustration. “Yes I'm rather good at defensive and battle magic, but I really think that you need a professional team of Aurors to handle this.” 

He ran a hand through his hair distractedly. He wasn't even 19 and had focused all his time since the Final Battle doing fun things like climbing mountains and exploring remote caves. He really wasn't the right person for the job.

“Please Harry,” Narcissa whispered in desperation. Clearly, she wasn't too proud to beg.

“I... I guess I can try,” Harry murmured with a shrug.

“You won't be alone,” Kingsley promised. “The only reason I don't just send a team in is that we are certain that those holding young Malfoy captive would simply kill him and escape before we can breech their perimeter anyway.”

“Then how would I have any better luck?” Harry wondered.

Kingsley called Harry's attention to a map on a rolling board in front of the wall between him and the Malfoys. “Using the coordinates that the abductors Owled to drop the money at – reconnaissance has revealed some rather interesting information.

“Before I go into detail, I need you to know that the Malfoys requested you specifically, and I originally planned to honor their request – if you agreed. That said, this really might be something that only you can do,” Kingsley informed him.

“And why is that?” Harry asked, his interest definitely piqued.

“Our intelligence shows that the money drop spot is just outside a large and heavily warded fortress – of sorts. It seems to be the same place all three of the victims have been taken, and will not be easy to penetrate. That said, you should know that wards are like bowls. They are created by a circle on the ground that forms a dome over what it is meant to protect. They _don't_ extend underground because the Earth is a natural and living barrier to most magic – meaning that it would be difficult and time consuming to cast a spell to dig a tunnel under a ward. Are you with me so far?” Kingsley asked.

“Yeah,” Harry muttered even as he nodded his head. And he was, though he also thought he could see where the Minister of Magic was going with this. 

“It seems the Gods have decided to favor us,” Kingsley continued. “There's a natural series of caves and caverns and tunnels in the area. We _think_ that one of them lies directly under the fortress, and would allow you relatively easy access to it for a rescue mission.”

And yep, that's exactly where Harry thought this was going. He had the skills needed to get to and then penetrate the fortress under the wards. Kingsley was right in that digging spells were difficult and time consuming, but Harry had a lot of practice with them. More important than that, Harry was the only wizard he knew of that had taken the time to learn the skills necessary to climb up to the ceiling of the cave or cavern.

“I understand,” Harry stated confidently. “This is something I can do.”

Kingsley nodded in agreement. “The plan is for you to sneak in and find Draco Malfoy. Once you have secured his immediate safety, you'll send out a Patronus for backup and our team will begin an assault of the wards and sweep in to arrest anyone who hasn't managed to escape. We just need to be sure that they  _can't_ kill him as they flee to safety.”

Harry swallowed nervously once more. “And... how can we be sure that he's still alive?”

“If they hold the pattern, they haven't killed him yet. They're torturing him while they wait for the ransom to arrive,” Kingsley explained. “They kidnapped him five days ago, sent the ransom note two days later giving the Malfoys five days to obtain the payment and abandon it at the drop off point. That gives us two more days to rescue him.”

“Then we'd better get started,” Harry stated as if there was no other possible option. Narcissa let out a tiny sob of relief.

 

***

 

An Auror who had scouted out the underground cave system side-along Apparated Harry as close to the fortress as he could get. Which was just inside the wards above them. The rest of the way would be up to Harry – who promptly cast a Point-Me Spell to lead the way. 

It took about a half an hour of crawling through a tight passage, but then Harry emerged into a huge cavern. The spell was pointing nearly straight up now, so Harry knew he was under the spot where they were keeping Draco. Squaring his shoulders in determination, he readied his gear and prepared to climb to the ceiling and break into the fortress by any means necessary.

 

***

 

Draco wished that he could vomit. The first day when they had simply beaten him, he'd nearly vomited from the pain, but back then, he'd considered it a point of pride to control his stomach. He'd lost that pride and the meager contents of his stomach two days later when they'd progressed to shoving hot pokers all over his body.

Now, he had nothing left inside him to be sick with. The only reason he hadn't died from starvation was a spell that filled his stomach with a sort of liquid nutrition – that they cast whenever he passed out so that he couldn't die before they wanted him to. He had no doubt that they would kill him eventually as they had explained it quite thoroughly.

He was meant to suffer and pay for all the atrocities that had been inflicted by the hands of Death Eaters under the rule of Voldemort. Once his ransom was paid, it would be divided up amongst victims and survivors of the Dark Lord's cruelty, but Draco would die. They told him that the world was better off without people like him, and his death would be a punishment to his father – who had managed to throw enough money at the Wizengamot to avoid being convicted of his many crimes.

Draco had started out insisting that he didn't deserve to die for the crimes of his father – and that his own crimes were practically nonexistent in comparison. However, they wouldn't listen. By this point, even Draco was starting to believe that they might be right. Maybe he  _did_ deserve to die. Whether he deserved it or not, he was definitely looking forward to the end of this excruciating pain and suffering.

Especially now that he was staring at a knife preparing to sever the littlest finger from his left hand and couldn't even vomit in disgust and fear. His only consolation was that he knew that  _not_ begging them to take pity on him meant that they would only cut the one finger off rather than all of them. The twisted bastards liked to increase the severity of whatever they were doing if he showed weakness or begged. After all, the Dark Lord never showed mercy to anyone.

Many years of preparing potions ingredients made Draco certain that a sharp enough knife could cut through anything cleanly. Possibly even with minimal pain if they pushed into his joint just right, but no. They wanted him to suffer, so they chose a dull, mildly serrated knife and slowly sawed through the bone just under the knuckle joint.

Draco cried out because how could he not cry, but he didn't scream. On the scale of pain that he had become quite familiar with over the past... Few days? It felt like an eternity. Anyway, this pain wasn't quite intense enough to make him scream. In fact, it was more psychologically painful to watch it happen than physically.

The moment his finger was free from his hand, the man who had sawed it off held it up and waved it in front of Draco's eyes. Then he shoved it in Draco's mouth and cast a spell that forced him to swallow it whole. Gagging hindered the spell, but not for long.

_Maybe I'll be able to vomit it back up later..._

Then a different man – who was also maintaining a spell that prevented Draco from moving – grabbed Draco's hand and shoved the gushing wound into a mouth that wanted to refuse but couldn't. Draco had no choice but to drink his own blood. The saddest part of all was that Draco was so hungry and thirsty – and malnourished – that the blood tasted positively delicious.

“That's right!” The man taunted sadistically. “Drink it all!”

The other man laughed. “Maybe he'll bleed to death even as all his blood stays in his body!”

They both guffawed over this even though Draco realized that it was unlikely that he would bleed to death from a wound as insignificant as a severed pinky finger. Tears slipped from his eyes as he fervently prayed that they turned out to be right. That he'd bleed to death and just slowly go to sleep – never to wake again.

_Better sooner rather than later_ ...

“Better yet, let's lay him on his back and cast a spell so that he can't swallow. That way, the blood will pool in his mouth until he chokes on it.”

“Which is easy enough to revive him from so that we can do something worse... Perhaps we should feed him his own cock next?”

“ _What the fuck?!”_ A new voice roared in outrage. Draco thought he recognized that voice, but it _had_ to be his mind playing tricks on him.

The two men who were torturing him this time – there were at least six of them who took turns, from what Draco could tell – leapt to their feet and looked around. Their wands were at the ready, but they couldn't see anything. Clear confusion wrinkled their faces.

Draco though he heard the lightest fluttering of fabric, but that couldn't possibly explain the sight his eyes witnessed when he gathered up the will to look up. A startlingly bright red line drew itself across first one throat, and then the other. Blood from the necks of his torturers sprayed all over him like a sudden rain shower, and then they fell to the stone floor. Draco didn't dare hope that they were dead.

There was silence for a long moment as a ward shimmered into existence around the room. Another spell was added, but Draco couldn't concentrate enough to determine what it was. After that, a hallucination appeared before him.

“God, Draco! This is insane! How could anyone do this to another human being?” Harry nearly wailed as he shrank down his invisibility cloak and stuffed it in his back pocket. After that, he pulled Draco's hand from his mouth and cast a spell that created an invisible bandage over the wound – knowing that a good Healer could probably grow the finger back if he didn't attempt to fix it with a healing spell.

The very next thing Harry did was cast a pain killing spell, all the while muttering under his breath. “How could they do this? Do they really think that decent people  _torture_ people?”

“P... Potter...” Draco managed to croak out, but only because the blood had soothed his raw throat. “Am I dreaming?”

“No, Draco,” Harry replied very sadly. “I wish this was nothing more than a particularly bad nightmare, but it's all too real.”

“No, I mean, are you really here?”

Considering that Draco hadn't moved more than his eyes or his mouth, Harry realized that he was under some sort of immobilization spell. Probably a variation on Petrificus Totalis – which made a person stiff and straight as a board as opposed to bent over a low table.

“I'm really here,” Harry assured him in a soothing tone of voice. “Finite Incantatem.”

The sudden end of the spell holding him still had the unexpected result of making Draco fall to the floor. He couldn't really move much anyway because he was so weak. Not to mention his legs were broken.

“Oh God, what else did they do to you?” Harry asked, his voice soft and full of anguish. Draco's back had been bruised and full of angry welts and burns, but his front was worse because they liked Draco to see them beating him.

“How are we going to get out of here?” Draco asked rather than answer the question.

“Well the plan was for me to send for backup and wait here and protect you until the team of Aurors arrive, but now I'm thinking that...” Harry hesitated, then shook his head. “It's not fair. They expect everyone here to flee the moment the wards are assaulted. They don't expect to capture or arrest anyone – not even with a Anti-Disapparation ward surrounding the entire area.”

“So... What _do_ you want to do?” Draco asked, not sure if this was a dream or reality, and more to the point, not quite believing that he was _actually_ being rescued by Harry bloody Potter, reckless Hero and Savior extraordinaire.

Harry cast a few gentle cleaning charms on Draco, then pulled a thick, warm robe out of his pocket. After unshrinking it, he draped it over Draco's naked and battered body, dressing him like a doll. Lastly, he levitated Draco over to the corner farthest from the door – cast a cushioning charm on the floor – and covered him with the invisibility cloak.

“I _want_ to kill them all like the rabid animals they must be,” Harry growled grimly. “But I don't... I can't. Those two were the result of a rush of rage and the need to defend you, but now that I'm thinking clearly again, I can't just go around murdering the rest of your captors – no matter how much they deserve it. Not unless I need to defend myself. So I'm going to very carefully sneak around and stun and incarcerate them. If they should happen to attack me, well...” Harry spread his hands wide as if indicating that he would be helpless to do anything but defend himself.

“You...” Draco was now certain that he was hallucinating, which was depressing and gratifying at the same time since it could only mean that he had passed out and was resting up for the next bout of torture. “You're not a killer.”

“I'm not a murderer, but I killed Voldemort. I've cast Unforgivables before and during the Final Battle to defend myself and others. I nearly became an Auror – who wouldn't hesitate to kill to defend an innocent such as you are in this situation. I also happen to be _really fucking angry_!” Harry ended the explanation with a soft roar. His abundant magic proved his point by fluffing his hair wildly and crackling along his hands and bare arms.

Draco only had a moment to realize that Harry was wearing a sleeveless, black, form-fitting muscle shirt and tight blue jeans that made him look like a sex God. Then Harry turned to leave. Draco wished he had the strength to grab his hand, but he could barely twitch his remaining fingers.

“Wait! Since I'm apparently dying and having strange visions, can you at least shag me before you disappear? I don't want to die with pain and torture as my last memories,” Draco rambled desperately.

Harry stopped in his tracks and looked back at where he knew Draco was – even though he couldn't see him under the cloak. “You want me to shag you?”

“More than anything. If I survive this nightmare – which they've assured me that I won't – I plan to hunt you down and tell you everything. All those things I've kept hidden from you all these years because I couldn't disappoint my father.”

“Draco, perhaps you should shut up now and let me finish rescuing you,” Harry suggested with a tiny smile. “We can talk about shagging and anything else you want when you're not convinced that you're seeing things and about to die.” 

Draco sighed in disappointment. “Okay...”

With a nod of approval, Harry cast three more powerful wards that would protect Draco if anyone should manage to slip around Harry – although, they'd have a hard time finding him under the cloak, which would probably make them think that Draco had escaped already anyway.

Unlike most of his rather reckless youth, Harry took the time to  _sneak_ around – as opposed to marching forward under his invisibility cloak. He cast a Disillusionment Charm to make it harder to see him and also muffled his shoes. He wanted to make sure that he caught every single one of these bastards and made them pay.

With a  _long_ stay in Azkaban and possibly a temporary reinstatement of the Dementors' Kiss.

Harry slowly found, stunned, and incarcerated four more men – who looked hardened enough to be capable of torture – and three women. The women looked haunted, and so Harry would guess that they probably hadn't participated directly, but just being there made them guilty by association. Accomplices. 

When he had searched every nook and cranny, and cast every revealing charm he knew to be  _certain_ that there was no one left, Harry gathered up all his leftover anger and rage. Then he imagined blowing up the wards around the fortress the same way he had once blown up his Aunt Marge. Well actually, much more violently than that. Sure enough, they shattered as if an opera singer had reached a certain pitch while holding a crystal glass.

Since the Anti-Disapparation ward had shattered too, the team of Aurors popped into the room where Harry was standing, pointing his wand at a pile of incapacitated witches and wizards.

“What happened?” Head Auror Dawlish questioned gruffly when it was determined that the situation was secure.

“Where's my son?” Lucius demanded so coldly that Harry shivered. Narcissa put a hand on her husband's arm to remind him of his manners – no need to upset the man who had just rescued Draco.

“I'll lead you to him, but I highly suggest that someone with better medical training than I have stabilize him immediately so that he can be brought to St. Mungo's right away,” Harry stated, trying to sound calm.

Narcissa gasped and clutched her chest. Then she let out a tiny sob. “He's alive!”

“Yes,” Harry confirmed grimly. Without another word, he led the on staff Healer down the hallway.

Dawlish clamped a hand onto a shoulder from each Malfoy. “Perhaps you should wait to see him until he's recovered. If the other bodies are anything to go by, it won't be pleasant to see him right now.”

“It doesn't matter how unpleasant it will be for us,” Narcissa informed him in her frostiest voice. “What _matters_ is that he knows we are there for him. That he is safe and that we will not let anything harm him again.”

Dawlish merely nodded once and let them go.

Less than two minutes later, Lucius and Narcissa followed Harry Potter and the Healer into what appeared to be an empty room aside from two bodies. Harry had inadvertently shattered the wards here too, but since he knew for certain that the fortress was safe at that point, he wasn't concerned. He walked over to the corner and pulled his cloak off Draco – quickly shrinking it and storing it in his back pocket.

To his dismay, Draco was out of it; both unconscious and delirious. The room was silent for a moment except for soft moans and groans of anguish from Draco. Subtle writhing reminded the Healer of her job, prompting her to cast diagnostic spells – which pulled a stream of muttered swear words from her mouth.

“Aside from a curse to shatter the bones in both legs, all of this damage is non-magical. That's good in that it will be easier to heal, but I need to create something like a splint or a stasis field around his legs so that they can't be jostled while we move him,” the Healer informed Harry because she couldn't stop herself. She _had_ to tell someone and share her burden.

Then her eyes went wide and she looked around the room. Even as she cast the necessary spells, she leaned over and whispered to Harry. Her voice carried clearly through the silence.

“Where's his finger?” 

Harry held a hand over his mouth for a moment as he felt his stomach churn unpleasantly. “I don't know for sure, but I suspect... his stomach...”

All color drained from her face as she turned to cast a spell that would let her look around inside Draco's body. When she found the missing finger lodged in his lower esophagus, she sighed in relief even as she clearly fought the urge to be sick.

“Good,” she whispered. “It shouldn't be too damaged. We can fix this.”

Narcissa was so relieved to hear this that she couldn't fight back her tears any longer. She sobbed and wailed in almost exactly the same way that Molly Weasley had when she learned that Fred hadn't made it. Lucius was so shaken that he couldn't do anything but stare in horror at his abused son.

“Mum...” Draco mumbled – still passed out. He probably thought he was dreaming about her crying. This agitated him, so Harry pulled Narcissa into his arms in an attempt to calm her so that Draco wouldn't try to wake up before he was all better.

Harry stroked Narcissa's long blonde hair, which he found almost as comforting as she did. “I killed the two that cut his finger off and forced him to drink his own blood,” he whispered in her ear.

“Good,” Narcissa stated in a soft tone so steely that Harry knew she was mentally thinking of all the things she would have done to them before they died. Her eyes narrowed as she looked to the bodies. He wouldn't be surprised at all if she somehow managed to steal the bodies, turn them into Inferi, and then torture them a bit before letting them die again.

“I owe you everything,” Lucius said very softly, one hand clutching Harry's wrist as his other clutched his snake headed cane.

“No,” Harry denied with a shake of his head. “We'll talk about it later.”

With a nod, Lucius stepped forward to help the Healer, who was ready to move Draco. A moment later, Harry was left alone to go back and explain what had happened to Dawlish.

 

***

 

As Draco drifted awake, he heard arguing.

“I don't need a reward!”

“Nonsense!” Lucius insisted with cold fury. “This is the second life debt our son owes you, only this one was incurred by the entire family since we asked you to save him.”

“You must let us repay you,” Narcissa added gently.

“But why? Saving people is sort of what I do,” Harry explained, sounding mildly desperate. “It's its own reward.”

“I promised you everything we own,” Lucius growled softly. “Do you think that a Malfoy would go back on his word?”

“Look, I get that you love your son so much that you'd spend your entire fortune to save him, but I already have plenty of money,” Harry pointed out. “I have both the Potter and the Black fortunes. Adding the Malfoy one would really just be overkill.”

“So...” Narcissa began hesitantly. “What you're saying is that you need neither money nor material objects?”

“Exactly!” Harry exclaimed in relief that they finally seemed to be understanding him.

“But what else is there?” Lucius murmured, his voice soft and brooding.

Harry shrugged indifferently. “I don't know. How about a favor? If I should ever actually  _need_ anything – no matter what it is – you have to do it.”

Lucius and Narcissa shared a deeply significant look, and then both actually shrugged. “That does sound fair,” Narcissa admitted.

Lucius nodded. “While I dislike owing anyone anything, I can well imagine how there might be certain things in the future one as venerated as you might not want to dirty your hands with.”

Harry snorted in amusement. “If you are referring to killing bad guys, I think I can do that on my own, thanks ever so.”

Lucius merely shrugged again. “Be that as it may, I find your terms acceptable. In return for rescuing my son and saving his life – again – I Lucius Abraxas Malfoy hereby vow to perform one favor for Harry Potter at any time, no matter what it is.”

“I Narcissa Druella Black Malfoy hereby vow to perform one favor for Harry Potter at any time, no matter what it is.”

Harry sighed in disappointment that he hadn't been able to interrupt or stop her. “That's  _two_ favors,” he protested.

“It _should_ be a hundred,” Narcissa sniffed haughtily. “Or do you think we place so little value on our son's life?”

Harry sighed again, this time in resignation. “Alright, fine.”  _It's not like I plan to ever call them in anyway._

Narcissa exhaled softly in relief. Then she glanced at her son – who still appeared to be sleeping. “Will you stay with him for a few minutes so that he's not alone if he wakes up. I find myself in need of freshening up, as I'm sure my dear husband must need as well.”

“Yes,” Lucius agreed vaguely. 

Since the two of them had been awake and by Draco's side for nearly two days straight without eating and only drinking a little tea here and there, Harry was sure that they were both ready to pass out. He nodded.

“Of course. Go rest. I'll keep an eye on him,” Harry promised compassionately.

“Thank you,” Narcissa whispered, a hand on Harry's arm. “For everything.”

Harry gave her a small smile and patted her hand. After that, Lucius and Narcissa left the room. Harry slumped into the extremely comfortable chair that someone had conjured at some point. As wealthy patrons who had donated large amounts of money to the hospital in the past, the Malfoys were give a veritable luxury suite of a hospital room – which at least gave Harry room to pace if he wanted.

Instead, he tangled his fingers in his hair. “How do I get myself into these situations?!”

“Idiocy and heroism,” Draco replied dryly.

“You're awake,” Harry exclaimed as he sat up straight.

“I'm sure you feel I should have made this known before my parents left, but I didn't want to deprive them of what I'm sure is the first rest they've had in...” He waved his hand dismissively. “Who knows, really? We can pretend that I remained unconscious until they return.”

Harry smirked. “Glad to see that you retain your unique sense of humor.”

“I feel like it's the only thing I have left at the moment,” Draco murmured. He hesitantly raised his left hand to assess the damage. To his surprise, his hand was whole. His other hand covered his stomach as his expression briefly turned sour.

Harry gave him a gentle smile. “They were able to repair all of the damage. You won't even have any scars. That said, since your legs were shattered by a dark spell, they are taking a bit longer to fully heal. You won't be allowed to put any weight on them for a few more days.”

“However, swimming will do wonders for you,” a kindly older Healer informed them unexpectedly as she entered the room. She winked at Harry before focusing on Draco – helping him sit up and adjusting the bed to support him perfectly. “Maybe you can get your gorgeous and heroic friend here to swim with you. The gentle, non weight bearing exercise will not only help strengthen your muscles and bones, but the two of you will get to see each other wearing next to nothing!”

Harry blushed but Draco looked like he was thinking this over very carefully and with definite interest. The Healer promptly cast diagnostic spells on Draco to assess his progress. “My name is Healer Rowe, and  _you_ are looking handsome and quite fit. (Draco gave her a tiny but genuine smile at that pronouncement.) Even a little bit healthy. We might be able to discharge you as early as tomorrow. I'm going to send in a Mind-Healer in a little bit to talk to you about what happened. I suggest you simply spill your guts and get it over with because you won't be released until the Mind-Healer is satisfied that you're not going to run mad and try to do the same to someone else.”

“I see...” Draco murmured with a haunted look in his eyes.

The Healer clucked sympathetically. “If it helps, all of your injuries were cataloged quite thoroughly, so you won't have to describe every single detail. Just... Just enough to give a clear picture of how you are feeling, and yes, we're pretty sure that you're not feeling very well at all.”

Harry chuckled irreverently. “I think I like you better than the Pompous Windbag I'm usually saddled with when I'm brought in.”

Healer Rowe smirked at him rather mischievously. “Would you perhaps be referring to our beloved Chief Healer?”

“Might be,” Harry neither confirmed nor denied with a shrug.

“Sounds like you describe him rather accurately. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go order a cup of tea and something delicious to eat – for you, my dear,” she informed Draco, patting his cheek both gently and rather grandmotherly. “Darling Harry Potter can scrounge up his own food.”

Draco and Harry both snorted in amusement at that.

“So...” Harry began awkwardly in an attempt to fill the sudden silence, but then couldn't think of anything to say.

“Thank you,” Draco stated sincerely, staring at Harry as if he could see into his very soul.

“You're welcome, although thanks really aren't necessary. I think I would have rescued Voldemort himself from a horror such as that – or quite possibly my Uncle Vernon, ugh!” Harry shuddered at the thought of having to rescue him, and then folded his hands over his abdomen and tapped two fingers in thought as he looked up at the ceiling. “Although I might have to fight an urge to wait until it's too late in his case.”

Draco was gaping in astonishment. “There's... Someone you hate  _more_ than the Dark Lord?”

“Not sure I ever truly hated anyone,” Harry murmured. “I mean sure, it felt like hate at the time, but when I was at King's Cross Station talking to Dumbledore when Voldemort thought he'd killed me, I realized that I felt nothing more or less than pity for him. You weren't all that bad, simply doing what you thought you had to in order to protect your family – and yourself. And even Snape turned out to be the biggest Hero of us all, so...” he shrugged.

“But... your Uncle...?” Draco wondered curiously. Although he was curious about the rest of what Harry said too.

“Is extremely lucky that he doesn't need me to rescue him. Please just leave it at that,” Harry said in a way that tried not to be cold and flat, but conveyed his feeling that the subject was closed nonetheless.

“Fine,” Draco agreed with a deep sigh. “Then let's talk about what I said when I thought I was dreaming.”

“You were sure you were dying,” Harry responded, holding his hands up as if to reassure Draco that he understood. “You could have claimed that wrackspurts were dancing naked in your nose and I'm dead certain that no one would have argued with you.”

Draco smiled, his chest and stomach moving slightly from silent laughter. “Be that as it may, I was... serious...”

Harry got up and walked over to the side of the bed. Then he leaned over until he was eye to eye with Draco. Draco met his gaze without blinking or shying away.

“Draco, you've just been through a very traumatic experience. I think you should think about what you are saying for a few days,” Harry advised.

“I don't need to. I've wanted to say this since probably halfway through Fifth Year,” Draco said as he caressed the scar on the back of Harry's right hand that said _I must not tell lies_. 

“Er...” Harry droned uncomfortably, thinking that he should probably leave and _force_ Draco to think this over for a few more days.

Draco could practically read Harry's mind and didn't want Harry to interrupt or get away, so he tangled the fingers of his left hand in the hair at the back of Harry's head. After that, he used the grip to hold Harry steady so that he could kiss the stubborn git. Harry's mouth fell open slightly in surprise, which Draco took full advantage of. Fairly quickly, the two of them were snogging rather passionately.

“I dearly hate to interrupt this intensely deep discussion you're having, but...” a man said, and then cleared his throat. “It looks like you might prefer me to do my job and clear you to leave as soon as possible.”

“Yes! Please,” Draco stated earnestly after he broke off the kiss. He then grabbed Harry's hand to prevent the skittish hero from bolting in panic. “And you promised to keep an eye on me while my parents are gone, so don't you dare leave now.”

“But. But,” Harry tried to come up with a persuasive protest.

The Mind-Healer chuckled. “My preliminary assessment is that the patient is sound of mind and determined to keep you around. It might be for the best if you simply got comfortable in that chair and waited for us to finish talking.”

Harry looked over to the chair that the Healer indicated, and then nodded. “But I just need to say something first.”

“By all means,” the Mind-Healer permitted.

Harry tucked a stray bunch of hair behind Draco's ear. “After you're discharged, I'll come with you to Malfoy Manor so that we can... talk. You don't have to say anything to me now. It can wait until then.”

Draco squeezed Harry's hand, clear hope shinning in his eyes. “You mean that?”

“I do,” Harry confirmed with a smile.

Draco returned the smile, and then his expression turned to that of pure Slytherin calculation. “Then I'd better do whatever it takes to get discharged as soon as possible!”

Harry chuckled as he walked back to the chair. His life had just taken the most unexpected turn yet, but as he stared at Draco – with a slightly awestruck expression – he couldn't help but feel that it was also the best one. He couldn't  _wait_ to find out what was going to happen next!

 

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so, I can understand why it might seem unbelievable for Draco to *seem* so untraumatized by his ordeal, but J.K.R. describes Draco as a person who has the ability to compartmentalize his mind in order to cope with the things he had to do as a reluctant Death Eater. I am using that description of him for this story. I'm not trying to imply that he is immediately hunky dory, just that he has better coping techniques than most people would.


End file.
